Actually, No. You Don’t Understand.

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Abstract

m, it has the potential to desensitize us to our own trauma. We become people who laugh about childhood memories that aren’t the least bit funny. The trouble, of course, is that our own numbness doesn’t extend to the people in our circle…or in our vicinity. It’s not that I tried to be intense, per se, or brash or even tone deaf. When our own emotions are blunted, sometimes, it is difficult to remember what it is like to feel.It’s safe to say that, for a little longer than I’d care to admit, small talk was virtually impossible for me. I circulated my business like a fresh issue of People magazine, oblivious, apparently, to its gravity. People responded, I learned, in the only way that we are taught is reasonable.“Oh, I understand,” many of th

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em would say, and would go on to tell me the story of something that bore little resemblance to the subject at hand. In the moment, I felt annoyed: in hindsight, these responses were natural, conditioned, even. We are taught that this is the right thing to say.But actually, no. We don’t understand. And this is something that, as a whole, we need to become more comfortable with admitting to ourselves. There is nothing wrong with our life experiences differing from those of the people around us. To be honest, you don’t understand, and words cannot describe the joy that I feel, knowing that the overwhelming majority of people do not understand: I am glad that you don’t share my story. I wouldn’t wish certain chapters of it on anybody.</article></body>

Actually, No. You Don’t Understand.

If there was an award for the greatest number of words spoken in a day, I probably would have won it about six months ago. Mouth like a faucet running up the water bill. Words tumbling out of my mouth before my brain even gave me the green light to couple my thoughts with sound.

When we’re forced to relive the same sequence of events ad nauseum, it has the potential to desensitize us to our own trauma. We become people who laugh about childhood memories that aren’t the least bit funny. The trouble, of course, is that our own numbness doesn’t extend to the people in our circle…or in our vicinity. It’s not that I tried to be intense, per se, or brash or even tone deaf. When our own emotions are blunted, sometimes, it is difficult to remember what it is like to feel.

It’s safe to say that, for a little longer than I’d care to admit, small talk was virtually impossible for me. I circulated my business like a fresh issue of People magazine, oblivious, apparently, to its gravity. People responded, I learned, in the only way that we are taught is reasonable.

“Oh, I understand,” many of them would say, and would go on to tell me the story of something that bore little resemblance to the subject at hand. In the moment, I felt annoyed: in hindsight, these responses were natural, conditioned, even. We are taught that this is the right thing to say.

But actually, no. We don’t understand. And this is something that, as a whole, we need to become more comfortable with admitting to ourselves. There is nothing wrong with our life experiences differing from those of the people around us. To be honest, you don’t understand, and words cannot describe the joy that I feel, knowing that the overwhelming majority of people do not understand: I am glad that you don’t share my story. I wouldn’t wish certain chapters of it on anybody.